


can you imagine?

by Slumber



Category: Given (Anime), Given (Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29198796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber
Summary: “Easy,” Akihiko says, reaching forward to pull Haruki's hair back. It’s silken in his hands and for the first time in a long while, there’s a blossoming ache in his chest he doesn’t want to stop.If he were a different guy, maybe he would let it unfurl.Haruki makes it seem so easy. Akihiko wishes it could be.
Relationships: Kaji Akihiko/Nakayama Haruki
Comments: 18
Kudos: 95
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	can you imagine?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shin_ka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shin_ka/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this treat!

“Do you play the drums?”

Akihiko blinks. The syllabus stays in his outstretched hand, caught in the space between them. When he glances up, when he finally looks, all he sees is yellow hair, bright eyes, an eager smile. A hint of color in pale cheeks, like the man had gathered up the last of his nerves to speak to Akihiko, because rarely anyone did. 

“What of it,” he asks, too caught off-guard by the—by _everything_ about the encounter: the suddenness, the normalcy, the amount of optimism and hope in those eyes.

“I'm Haruki,” the man says. “Wanna join my band?”

In another world, maybe this is how they’d start.

* * *

There isn’t even a band at all, he finds out later.

“Do you even know if I can play well?” he asks as he follows Haruki to the studio. 

Haruki had booked the room and paid the fees, something to sweeten the pot with, which is fine, because Akihiko’s in one of those off-again stages with Ugetsu anyway, his gigs have run dry, and he could barely afford instant ramen for lunch. He really needs a more stable part-time job.

Haruki sets his bass down and turns to Akihiko, and the smile he gives him is wide. “Does it matter?” he asks. “Thought it just might be fun to play, right?”

 _What, just like that?_ Akihiko had wanted to ask, but that’s when Uenoyama walks in.

“This your band, then?” 

* * *

It’s odd, Akihiko thinks, how seamlessly the three of them get together, especially for a group of strangers. Haruki hadn’t even so much as spoken three words to Uenoyama before asking him to join a band with him, Akihiko finds out later, when he’d been convinced they were cousins, or even acquaintances.

Maybe it’s _because_ they’re a group of strangers.

Approaching everything like a clean slate goes a long way, in the end. There’s no preconceived prejudice or baggage stopping anyone from speaking up, and they adjust to each other’s personalities well enough. 

Uenoyama’s talented and knows it, sure, and his level of genius comes with the occasional flare-up here and there when they don’t quite hit their stride, but Haruki and Akihiko are older and calmer—Haruki’s a peacemaker, for one, quick to call for a break when frustrations start to mount. And Akihiko doesn’t care. He’s been yelled at before for far, far less.

The drums are easy in a way Akihiko enjoys, and finding the beat is something he can lose himself in when navigating the winding rise and fall of a melody gets too complicated to pin down. The twice-a-week sessions at the studio slowly turn to three, to four. When Uenoyama says he can’t afford any more than that, Akihiko tells him to apply to the convenience store he’d just gotten hired at. 

“That was nice of you, looking out for him like that,” Haruki tells him later, once Uenoyama had gone home because of curfew and they’d decided to jam a little bit more—Haruki because he wanted to, Akihiko so he didn’t have to go to Ugetsu just yet.

Akihiko snorts. “He’s gonna need to pay his share like the rest of us,” he says. “And we’re short-staffed at work. If he gets the job there’ll be someone newer I can boss around to do inventory.”

Haruki laughs, a lock of yellow hair falling over his eyes. Akihiko quashes the urge to tuck it behind his ear. “So you didn’t do that out of the goodness of your heart, huh?” he asks, grinning at Akihiko.

“What makes you think there’s any goodness in my heart?” 

* * *

They land a gig eventually—nothing big, nothing impressive, but Haruki introduces them to some of the other bands at the venue after the show is done. Uenoyama has to go home right after, but the rest of them go out for drinks, a party of about a dozen people occupying two tables, mindless conversation and grilling meat filling the space between them.

Akihiko doesn’t talk a whole lot and the guys don’t ask him much, but it’s not uncomfortable, sitting in that brightly lit room, barbecue smell clinging to the fabric of his clothes as he sips his beer and lets the chatter soak through his skin, in one ear and out the other. The guy they call Take-chan holds court at their table, laughing wildly as he recounts some story or other from a different gig at a different time, but for whose benefit Akihiko isn’t sure—seems like everyone else already knows what happens next.

Haruki’s tipsy on his way to drunk, on his third or fourth glass of beer, color in his cheeks and tears in his eyes as he laughs along to every punchline. At one point he sways sideways too far, knocking into Akihiko, who holds him up to steady him.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, hoping Haruki can see, even when he’s barely got any, that he’s lifting an eyebrow. 

“M’fine, m’fine,” Haruki says, swaying back away. His hair’s a little bit longer now than when they first met, and when he leans into his drink, strands of it nearly fall into the beer.

“Easy,” Akihiko says, reaching forward to pull his hair back. It’s silken in his hands and for the first time in a long while, there’s a blossoming ache in his chest he doesn’t want to stop.

If he were a different guy, maybe he would let it unfurl. 

* * *

“Where were you?” Ugetsu asks when he gets home later that evening, barely lifting his head from the pillow. His back is pale except where it’s marked and bruised in taunting red, the sheets rumpled around his waist. He barely moves even as Akihiko sits down on the edge of the bed with a grunt, shucking off his socks and pulling off his shirt. “You stink of beer.”

There’s a shirt on the floor Akihiko’s never seen before. The whole apartment reeks with the cloying smell of sex. 

“I’ll take a shower,” he says, running his hand through his hair and wondering if it’s too late to head back out tonight.

* * *

He’s convinced Haruki would be dead to the world when he texts, but there’s a reply waiting for him as soon as he comes out of the shower. Another one that pops up moments after he responds.

“I thought you went home?” Haruki says when he opens the door to his apartment. His clothes are already sleep-rumpled, hair loose and tangled around his shoulders. 

“I got sidetracked on the way,” Akihiko lies. “And now it’s too late.” 

“Mm, okay, well, couch is free for you,” he says, yawning as he stumbles back inside, Akihiko following in. “Unless y’want a futon, but you’ll have to lay it out yourself.”

“Couch is fine. Thanks.”

“S’no problem,” comes Haruki’s reply, when Akihiko knows it full well is.

He didn’t have to answer the text. 

He didn’t have to stay up waiting for Akihiko to arrive.

He does, anyway, and Akihiko falls back onto the couch, trying not to think of why.

* * *

At some point Uenoyama brings a stray to the studio. Sato is wide-eyed and lonely, talented in a way that reminds Akihiko, painlessly, of Ugetsu. Uenoyama looks at him like he isn’t sure what to make of him, but their band of three grows to four, just like that.

And just like that, too, does sleeping over at Haruki’s once turns to twice, to thrice. Akihiko knows it’s a bad habit to rely on Haruki when he knows Ugetsu’s in a mood or with someone else, but he’s never been the poster child for breaking bad habits. 

Again, and again, and again.

“You know where the futon is,” Haruki says, collapsing onto his bed. 

The couch is easier. But Akihiko had followed him to his room already. “S’too much trouble,” he mumbles, flopping down on top of Haruki.

Haruki freezes—Akihiko can feel everything seize up with tension beneath him—and there’s a feeble attempt to push him off, but Akihiko’s heavier and a much more stubborn drunk, so all Haruki can do is let out a soft groan and let him be.

Like it’s that easy. 

If only it could be that easy.

* * *

(I’d do anything for you, Haru tells him through wet lashes and a tremble in his lips. His fingertips are cold against Akihiko’s cheeks. His body is shaking.

And if love were softer, sweeter, and kinder—if love were neither the violence of flesh ripped apart nor the violation of will that it was—maybe Akihiko would have let him.)

* * *

It isn’t until Haruki walks out that Akihiko understands he doesn’t want him to. It isn’t until Haruki lets him stay that Akihiko understands the true measure of his strength. It isn’t until Haruki gets angry that Akihiko understands the depth of his kindness.

“I forgave you long ago, you know,” Haruki tells him just as dawn starts to break. It's been hours since they left the studio, hours since they decided to walk home. “So you don’t have to keep acting like you’re still looking for absolution.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re too soft for your own good?” 

“Many times,” Haruki says solemnly. “But what else can I do? Even if you weren’t sorry, how would I move forward if I didn’t?”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s probably easier than you think. So you,” he says, punching him gently on the arm. “You should forgive yourself too.”

Akihiko glances up at the sky, lavender and blue and faintly light. 

Maybe he could try.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated ♥
> 
> If you liked what you've read, you can [share the tweet here](https://twitter.com/slumberish/status/1363462863877242883).


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